


Darkness

by FennecFoxKitten



Category: Original Work
Genre: Eventual Relationships, Eventual Sex, Multi-Species, Original work - Freeform, Science Fiction, Speciesism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-07-10 14:28:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19907218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FennecFoxKitten/pseuds/FennecFoxKitten
Summary: This is an original work, set in 2166, aboard the UAS Cairo.  An intergalactic war is currently ongoing, this story is about that crew and a secret they find out that can change the entire course of the war they fight.





	1. Prologue

It is strange, the memories you carry with you over time. I know, logically, I am dreaming. It only makes sense when you consider the fact that I am physically in a cryogenic tube. A last ditch effort, misguided, to protect and save my life. An effort that has led me to two questions that haunt me deeply: Is any life worth saving above others? Is mine truly worth saving?

I am not the perfect hero they think I am. I am a flawed creature, a shattered shell. A soldier forged not just on one battlefield but too many. I know the horror that every commander knows when they are faced with having to sacrifice their own soldiers. I know the fear that every soldier feels right before they make the choice to sacrifice their self. I know the guilt and regret when a warrior must make the call and genocide an entire race in order to protect their own people. I know the ache that comes when faced with the choice between duty and what is right. 

I have regrets... fears. I know the solace that the darkness brings, the place where in the quiet you cry and only your pillow is there to comfort you. I know the heartache of loss. I know the memories that the darkness brings. The screams and flashes of memories that never stay in the past. I know the face of war.

There wasn't supposed to be in another war for me. Retired. Nothing but the calm and peace of the ocean in a long forgotten place, away from the rest of the galaxy. The universe has a funny way of finding you when it needs to, even if you do not want to be found. This was a time it needed to. I made a pact, the words of it still haunting my dreams and memories. This was to be our last war. 

For him, it was.

Half my soul, keeper of my heart. I can still feel his touch. A kiss. An embrace. A caress. A thousand memories I would happily lose myself to. He knew how to silence the nightmares, to calm the fears that come after a lifetime of battles. I can still hear his voice, gentle despite this being a man that could kill in a thousand different ways. A knowledge in his bright eyes that belied the fact that this man trained from childhood to kill without fear or hesitation.

I remember that final mission, a memory I am certain others wished I could not. I remember his voice over the radio, the knowledge we both shared that he would not make it back. The final goodbye, the first and last time he showed emotion on the field of battle. The final claim of love. The explosion that not only took him, but took half my soul and all of my heart. The tears that fell down my cheeks as I ordered the others to leave, the fear in their eyes as we evacuated the civilians as they realized just how mortal I was. The silence that night as I laid in our bed, alone, tears falling. The regret and pain in red-rimmed, dark eyes staring accusingly back from the mirror, that I was alive and he was not. 

I lay in this frozen hell, perhaps a fitting tomb for all the death and chaos of my life laid upon this universe. Despite my enemies trying to kill me, I am still alive. I still remember. I will be the voice of my people when I am set free from this darkness. I will carry their memories. I will be their rage, their hurt, their anger. One oath to our Gods, an oath I will remember unto my last breath in this universe. I will hunt the enemy down, one by one if need be. I will destroy lives, worlds, empires. I will walk as death until the last of my enemies pay for taking the light from my life. And in that final moment, maybe I will live again.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This hasn’t been proofed yet, so apologies for typos and grammar issues.

Chapter One

Earth Space, 2166

Fingertips tapped lightly across the keyboard as dark blue eyes watched the video screen. It wasn't that he was truly bored, it was just a slow day Captain Christopher Stryker and odd way to start it. The message blinked again, the deep green glow illuminating the darkened bedroom where he sat. 

::Freighter wreckage found by Probe Alpha Zeta III near Dubhe . The Cairo is ordered by Alliance Command to investigate and retrieve any and all useful cargo. If computers are operational, download all data for future analysis.::

Cryptic, but not all too unsurprising. There had been a lot of salvage operations since the war had started, this would be just one of many carried out in the week. Any war ship could be ordered to do this. His crew would argue any other ship should have been, an argument he couldn't truly discount. For all the battles they had won against the Vrisai, there had been little thanks or appreciation. Not that he truly expected any.

Sighing, Christopher stood up, reaching for his uniform jacket. If he was going to have to cancel shore leave, again, he was at least going to do it in person. He'd find a way to make it up to them, bring morale back up despite what brass had been planning. There were days he contemplated going rogue, quietly in the back of his mind where others would never know. It never happened in the previous war, those who knew him knew it wouldn't in this. 

Slowly, he stepped out of the cabin, making his way to the lift. The music had changed, again. It wasn't standard to have music to begin with, but the ship's counselor felt it was a good way to help people de-stress. And it probably was, before the games started between the marines and engineering. Now no one, including himself, knew what was going to play when they stepped on the lift. Or when it would suddenly changed. So far, it was at least something mild and with a classical rhythm.

The CIC was anything but rhythmic when the doors opened, an argument already brewing between the weapons officer and his second officer. A sigh and look of long suffering was briefly shot towards the young woman who was his yeoman, gaze going to the two officers who were creating an entire new war on this particular deck. Of course, Counselor Naerra was nowhere to be seen.

Despite Earth having joined the galactic community close to thirty years ago, despite the alliances made and the joint forces creating ship crews like his, his second officer was an older gentleman who had fought through two first contact wars. To say Commander Marco di Gilead had a dislike for alien species was an understatement. It was as much his breeding as the European airs he still maintained. The only thing more stubborn about him was his loyalty to the ship and his captain, a fact that bought him usually some leeway. 

Then there was his weapons officer, a young and hot tempered member of the Tellaki, a tall and powerfully built cat race. He still wasn't sure what to think of their race, other than they had been raised by birth for the distinct purpose of war. Tsiraia never questioned his orders, there were times he wondered if she was able to. She just wasn't fond of Marco's attitude towards her. It was going to be a very long day.

"If the two of you are done trying to recreate the first time our two people met in space, I would appreciate all the officers meeting in the conference room," Christopher commented behind the two of them, heading towards a door. "Unless you both plan on jumping out the airlock, then pass the message to Navigation on your way out the door."

With the sudden jumps out of both officers, he knew that he'd gotten his point across, amusement flickering across his face briefly. He owed the chief engineer a bottle of rum for fixing the lift doors so they were fairly silent when they opened, allowing the captain to actually get away with walking up on people. Before either could reply, he slipped through the door of the conference room, sliding into the chair at the head of the table as he waited.

He didn't have to wait for very long before his navigation officer stepped in, his uniform cap on lopsided. Any other ship in the fleet and the lieutenant would have been in the brig or out of the service for any number of infractions he got away with on this ship. Truth was, Christopher couldn't afford to lose James Evans given how good a pilot he was. In return, the lieutenant had learned just how much of a boundary he could push before getting reprimanded. It was a mutually beneficial partnership, given the fact that James always seemed to be up on the current scuttlebutt on board and was always willing to share with the captain.

A few moments later, his first officer and weapons officer both walked in. Whatever their recent tiff had been about, if anything, it was over for the moment as they both sat down at the table away from each other. It was a small victory for the moment, the silence that filled the room, but a short lived one as the doors opened to let the chief engineer in with the ship's counselor and the lieutenant commander in charge of the marines in.

There always seemed to be an unspoken law that most engineers on ships seemed to be of the Scottish variety, or at least in Christopher's experience in the fleet. The man was burly and tall, shocking red hair pulled neatly back into a braid. There had been a betting pool at one point on who had enough power, and rank, to make the man cut his hair. The former captain had tried back when Christopher was his first officer. No one ever did find out exactly how it turned out, only that Joshua MacDougall never did cut his hair and the former captain never made mention of it again.

Christopher turned his gaze to regard the counselor for a moment. His verdict on her assignment to the Cairo was still being considered, even as he watched the young alien take a seat. Young by Dinarian standards, she was at least almost three hundred years old. If you added the ages of everyone in the room, Naerra was older than the entire group of them though not by much. While the average lifespan of most races in the universe had been raised to nearly two centuries, her people lived between a thousand and two thousand years, something he still couldn't quite wrap his mind around fully. Pale skinned, almost glowing eyes, her dark hair fell in gentle waves that framed her face. He offered a polite incline of his head as she took her seat, his gaze moving towards the lieutenant commander.

If there was a marine cliché on what their commanders were supposed to look like, Manuel Torres was not it. The product of a Hispanic father and Samoan mother, he was large and formidable. Still young enough to be cocky, he had made for a great fit for the ship despite his and the captain's reservations at the beginning.

The only person missing was the chief medical officer. She always had a good reason when she missed these meetings, or at least seemed to have always found one. Given that Doctor Maria Fedorovna was currently angry at him for the last mission, Christopher actually was grateful for the respite. 

"I know the entire ship was looking forward to our scheduled leave in the Orion cluster, however, we received orders from command this morning," Christopher began, watching the flickering of anger and annoyance start to flicker through the room. "Long range probes found a ship wreckage near Dubhe. Since that isn't that far from a certain space station, I am thinking we retrieve the wreckage and head to Port Alpha. Unless anyone has any objections?"

"Sir, we're a top line warship within the fleet, isn't a little bit strange they would be sending us to go pick up some cargo?" asked Tsirai, what approximated as an eyebrow arched.

"My usual assumption is that there is always something they are not telling us," Christopher mused, eyes still watching the various crew members. "I want everyone to be prepared in case this is an elaborate trap or ambush by the Vrisai. It's been several weeks since any ship in the fleet has encountered any of their ships, it's well overdue at this point." Shifting in his chair, he shifted his gaze directly at Tsirai and Torres. "This goes doubly for weapons and our marines on board. They gave no specifics on the type of freighter, and I do not plan on taking any chances with anyone's lives. Small team, we go on board and retrieve any cargo and sensor data, then we leave. And I am joining the boarding team."

Torres leans back in his chair, regarding the Captain a long moment as if mulling over his words. "While officially, I consider this fairly at the top of a long list of bad ideas that I have supported while stationed aboard," he begins, eyes still watching the Captain. "Unofficially, I would suggest you come down to the armory and make certain your armor and weapons are fully prepped for this." 

Whatever smart comment that Tsirai had at the Captain's comment of going with the boarding team was quickly muffled by the Samoan's response. "Weapons will be prepped and ready for any encounter when we enter the system, Captain," she finally answers, the flicker of bemusement still resting on her features.

"If there are no more questions, I plan on contacting Command to get all the information they have on this vessel. Inform the crew of the situation, and Evans inform me when we're an hour out," Christopher instructs, rising out of his chair. "With any luck, this will be an easy grab and go mission with some target practice thrown in. Dismissed."

* * * * * *

Two hours had gone by, Christopher was still regarding the same 'holding' image for Central Command. He would have been irritated if this wasn't a pattern of late, and in truth, was laughable at best. It was on these holds that often he had the time to work on reports, organize his quarters or catch up on the flight simulator that was currently popular on board. It made it no less startling when his comm unit suddenly beeped in the darkness.

Sighing, he turned the main screen off before pressing the button on the unit. "Stryker," Christopher responded, leaning back in his chair as he glanced up at the ceiling.

"Captain, you requested to be notified when we were about an hour out," James' voice stated into the darkness, a tinge of humor easily found within it. "Torres wanted me to remind you that you needed to come down to the armory and do the prep check on your equipment, and Naerra was asking to see you when you have a moment."

"Let the Counselor know that I will speak with her in about twenty minutes once I am done with Torres," he answered, contemplative at having such a meeting requested out of the blue. "Have Tsirai and Marco keep an eye on sensors. Central Command is being less than forthcoming on the situation and I would prefer no surprises."

"Aye aye, Captain," James replied, the comm unit going silent afterwards.

Shaking his head, Christopher slowly raised up from his chair, removing his jacket from the back as he regarded the still dark screen. Just once, he thought, I would like a mission to be completely straightforward instead of complicated. Turning, he took the few steps up to the door leading to the lift and waited. Whatever his next thought, it was completely derailed by the sound that assaulted his senses when the doors opened. It wasn't that he didn't have an eclectic taste in music, it was the fact that the sound that filled the lift currently more resembled some alien torture device complete with tortured souls crying in agony as they were slowly murdered in some up tempo mania. What had Naerra called this? Polka.

Christopher set a speed record getting out of the elevator near the armory, regarding each marine he passed with silent accusations for the two minutes of hell he had just endured, mentally swearing they had figured a way to slow the lift down along with their idea of music at the moment. "Torres, you should remind your men there are articles in the governing manual against torture, especially with the commanding officer of a ship," he commented darkly, picking up the legs of his combat armor to give them a cursory inspection before strapping them on.

"Leave was just cancelled," Torres retorted, glancing up from the assault rifle he was going over before setting it down next to a pistol in front of the captain. "You can't..." he started with a serious look on his face, then started laughing. "No, you really should blame them on that one."

Arching a brow, Christopher regarded Torres with a rueful smile. "Remind me if I ever am stupid enough to be talked into manning a desk to have your men program the hold music for when I ignore incoming calls," he retorted, dark amusement tingeing his voice. "I feel it is my civic duty to share that nightmare and misery to the rest of the fleet."

"You realize that the day that happens, I will never call you?" Torres retorted, watching the captain fasten the chest plate into place before starting with the arms of his armor. "I will assume by that comment and the subsequent plotting, no one was forthcoming to answer any questions at central command?"

"Two hours of the Alliance logo on my screen," Christopher answered, pulling the arms on one by one. "It wasn't important enough to wake anyone up for is my assumption. Make a list of any arms or armor we need, I will see what I can get us at Port Alpha."

Torres regarded the captain a long moment before handing him a pistol, then a rifle. "I will consider that carefully given I doubt Alliance Command will want to reimburse you on this. I do have some ideas on some upgrades for your armor given your tendency to draw fire," he mused, regarding Christopher as he finished. 

"None of you are ever going to let me forget that mission, are you?" asked Christopher, only half serious as he tried to stifle a laugh. "It's not like we didn't get everyone out of there. The mission was successful. "

Torres arched a brow, regarding the captain. "Doc forgive you yet?" he asked, knowing full well the answer to the question as he leaned against the table with both hands. “Or is she still plotting your death in almost as spectacular a way as your last jump?”

Christopher paused a moment, sliding the pistol into its holster. Sighing, he glanced up. "Not really," he admitted. "She's at least not plotting to physically hurt me so that's a step up. She’s minimized it into sending me tedious numbers of reports at this point. Almost as annoying.”

"True, that is better than her trying to plot your murder for making her work more than usual," Torres teased in turn. "Though, if she starts testing 'experimental' vaccinations or drugs, you are on your own. That's above my paygrade to be involved."

Christopher smiled, shaking his head. "Dangers of command. Speaking of which, Naerra requested to meet with me before we headed on board the derelict vessel."

"Christopher, be careful. The councillor may be loyal to the ship, it doesn't make her people loyal to the Alliance," Torres responded quietly, leaning in to drop his voice. "They are rarely forthcoming with any useful information and when they are..."

"We have an agenda?" finished Naerra as she approached both men. "I have information that I am not officially sharing with the two of you, unless neither of you are interested. Either way, you will want me on the boarding team. "

Both men jumped at the sudden sound of her voice, a look of irritation crossing Torres' features at being startled by her sudden appearance. It was Christopher, however, that spoke first. "Naerra, it is rarely considered a good idea to sneak up on a marine," he began, taking a deep breath. "What exactly are you able to share?"

"The vessel we were assigned to investigate is older than most races that are currently a part of the Alliance," Naerra responded, tapping a data pad to holographically show a ship. "It's a military flagship of the Zxyiri."

All three silently watched the hologram, contemplative in their own ways. The ship itself was not massive, sleek and appeared to be built for speed and stealth. Despite slight scorching on the hull, it appeared to be quite intact. 

Torres broke the silence first. "I thought all traces of the Zxyiri were wiped out by the Vrisai a thousand years ago," he stated, looking up at Naerra for confirmation. "Why is there an intact ship?"

"A better question would be why your commanders decided to not forward this to you in the first place," Naerra answered, glancing up to Christopher. "It was passed on to them a week ago."

Christopher continued to regard the hologram, contemplative. "To keep any possible leak of information would be my guess," he answered. "Torres, I want Naerra in armor for this. I also want as small a team as possible. We don't know what we are going to run into over there. I don't want too many in danger."

Torres nodded, moving quickly to start gathering items. Naerra pursed her lips for a moment before speaking again. "Chris, there is something else," she continued, voice quiet. "When the Asirai did the initial scan, they detected life signatures on board. They were chased by a Vrisai battle cruiser before they could investigate. "

The sudden drop of armor announced the marine's return, causing Naerra and Christopher to both jump. "Let's pretend for a second, for arguments sake, that there was the remote possibility that it could be a member of the Zxyiri," Christopher began. 

"And if it is, what are we possibly facing?" Torres added, voice deadly serious as he motioned Naerra towards him to start putting the armor on her.

Biting her lip, she contemplated the question for a long moment in silence. "If it is a Zxyiri, more than likely they are in cryogenic freeze at the moment," Naerra answers, almost hesitantly. "Their empire spanned hundreds of races and they were known for their combat prowess. Hand to hand, weaponized, some were said to possess the powers of telepathy and the ability to create energy blasts with just a thought. "

Torres let out a soft whistle, considering her response. Christopher regarded Naerra as the armor was shifted into place. “Naerra, what is your gut feeling on this?” he asked, eyes never leaving her own.

“I think my people would not have sent this to me, to you, if there wasn’t a good chance this could be an actual Zxyiri,” Naerra admits, fingers flexing within the armor’s gloves after she pulls them on. “If it is… I am concerned what their mindset may be. It’s been at least a thousand years. Their entire race is dead. Most of our races were barely more than primitives during the height of their empire. It is going to be a shock in the very best of occasions.”

“And command is hoping for strategy or technology to help in the current war, consequences be damned,” Torres added almost darkly, looking over to Christopher. “They likely didn’t even consider the scans as a possibility to be accurate.”

“Which leaves us with a possibility of a major and complicated issue,” finished Christopher, looking back to the hologram. He reached over and touched a button on the bridge, a soft chirp sounding in the room. “Stryker to the bridge.”

It took only a moment before the feline voice of Tsiraia sounded through the communications unit. “Lieutenant Tsiraia here, Captain.”

“Tsiraia, keep on alert for any Vrisian activity. James, once the boarding party returns from the ship, I want you to set the jump drive to Port Omega. Don’t wait, once the hatch is closed just get the ship out of this quadrant. Marco, I want the Cairo ready in case this is a trap. Use your judgement, run for it if you need to and come back for us,” Christopher ordered, glancing to Naerra and Torres.

“Aye, sir,” came the responses, Christopher closing the comm down. “I will meet you both at the airlock. Be ready in ten minutes.”

“Where are you going?” asked Torres, quirking a brow.

“If we are dealing with a first contact, the doctor will need fair warning,” came Christopher’s reply, voice still quietly serious as he headed towards the lift.

“Why ten minutes?” asked Naerra, puzzled. “We are at least fifteen minutes from Dubhe…”

Torres chuckled, placing a hand on her shoulder as Christopher stepped warily into the lift. “Escape clause,” the marine laughed, the last words Christopher heard as the doors closed. The music had changed, the soft chiming sounding almost ethereal as it mixed with more natural tones of wind and waves. A Dinarian tune of some sort.

“Third floor,” Christopher ordered, leaning back against the wall as he closed his eyes for a moment with a sigh. The mission had become more complicated, command only giving him partial intel on the situation, placing his people in danger again with their stupidity.

The doors opened into a grayed hallway, Christopher looking both ways before stepping out of the lift. Taking a deep breath, he turned left and headed down the corridor towards the medical bay. Mentally, he kept note of the time, knowing at least Torres would call him when they were ready. Or, he’d leave him to die at the hands of the angry Russian doctor. Christopher paused outside the door leading into the medical bay, taking a deep breath, again, before pressing a button to open the door.

The entire area was meticulous in its care, even the floors polished to a shine. The scuttlebutt at one time was that Dr. Fedorovna punished the stupidity of of enlisted and officers by making them clean the medbay with a toothbrush. Confirmed or not, he at least could respect the standards she kept this area in.

“I assume you have not been stupid and gotten yourself shot again. Or has Torres finally decided to do what half your ship dreams about?” came the dry question from behind a few screens.

Christopher chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned against the desk positioned to one side of the room. “No on both accounts,” he answered, keeping a wary eye on the area of the voice. “Since you were unable to make the briefing this morning, I thought I would make it a point to fill you in.”

Cold blue eyes peeked from behind the screen, strands of gray hair drifting in front for a second before she continued. “Then enlighten me, Captain,” the Russian accent continued. “What situation could possibly have came up that would have you brave my domain given your recent… activities?”

“Command is sending us on a retrieval mission on board a Zxyiri command ship with a possible Zxyiri currently in some sort of cryogenic stasis,” answered Christopher, continuing to regard the doctor from his perch. “Not that command gave me the latter information, the good councilor did that.”

“Which means they expected that I would enjoy patching all of you up when this inevitably went to hell and back,” Fedorovna finished, sighing as she moves around the screen to lean against one of the examination tables. “I will see what I can dig up on possible issues with the biology of the Zxyiri. Sadly, they did not leave much behind in the way of allowing us to study their physiology in depth.”

Christopher nodded, glancing down at his comm unit as it starts beeping. “Appreciated. I need to get to the airlock, the teams ready,” he began, getting up to head for the exit.

“Tell Torres I’ll skin him alive if he interrupts again,” Fedorovna mused, going back to the screen, fingertips tapping to bring up new files. “It’s not like I am going to shoot you. I would have to train a new captain then.”

Christopher paused, glancing over his shoulder a moment. “I will pass that along,” he answered, stepping back into the corridor to move towards the lift. Taking a deep breath, he let it go before activating his personal communicator. “Perfect timing. I assume everyone’s together and ready?”

Torres’ voice came through as the doors to the lift opened, the same chiming Dinarian song playing much to Christopher’s relief. “Aye, Captain. Total party going over, counting you and the councillor numbers numbers seven.”

“Good to know. I will be at the air lock in five. Deck five,” Christopher answered, leaning back against the wall of the lift. “By the way, the doctor had a few words she wanted me to relay to you.”

“Let me guess, the next time I rescue you, she’s going to do something absolutely horrific to me?” Torres asked, amusement evident in his voice. “I know a few sergeants who would help her if she asked, to be honest. Luckily for me, there are two people in this universe I fear. She’s not on that list.”

Christopher laughed, shaking his head in the empty lift. “That would be about what she said, though I believe the terms were something akin to skinning,” he admitted, amused. “Who do you fear?”

Torres’s voice held a seriousness belying the amusement the two had been sharing over the communicator. “The only people I fear are mi madre and God,” he answers. “Used to have a healthy dose of fear concerning my abuela, but she passed away. Which means I’m in trouble in the afterlife, but that’s a story for later.”

“Good to know,” Christopher answered, moving forward as the lift doors opened. Moving with some rapidity, he headed towards the small gathering of people near the aft airlock of the cargo bay that the marines had more or less commandeered on the ship. “Everyone ready, Torres?”

“Yes, sir. As soon as the flyboy up stairs has us into position to where it is safe to open the airlock, everyone is prepped and ready to go,” Torres answered, glancing to the captain.

“I heard that, Torres,” came the disembodied voice of Evans within the bay. “I am a well trained pilot who makes certain your sorry excuse of a carcass makes it to and from jump points and missions.”

“So you’re a boat driver?” asked Torres, mischief dancing in his eyes as he regarded the captain still, the latter trying to not chuckle and failing rather miserably.

“Laugh it up,” came the retort before Evans continued. “If you guys are done trying to torment me, I have us docked to the ship. Initial scans are showing a mostly breathable atmosphere, though their life support is limited at best.”

“Tsiraia, anything on long range scans?” asked Christopher as he reached to get his armor’s helmet.

Tsiraia’s familiar voice held the same tension everyone was feeling at the moment. “None at the moment, captain. However, I doubt that will last for long. It is my suggestion you make this quick, sir.”

Christopher motioned Torres to take lead, the four other marines falling in line. Naerra took position afterwards as he followed. Once all seven were inside the airlock, he closed the hatch behind them. “Noted,” he said, the familiar sound of the seal falling into place. “Gilead, ship is yours for the time being. Torres, open the hatch and start a sweep.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” answered both the executive officer and Torres at the same moment, the hatch opening to show another on the alien ship. After a few moments, that hatch was opened as well, flickering lights showing within as the five marines moved forward.


	3. Chapter 2 - Running the Gauntlet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boarding the mysterious ship, it isn't at all what they thought it would be.

She was dreaming again, floating. She could hear the commands, alien yet familiar float through her consciousness. It went on for a few moments, an almost dreamlike sensation floating around her for the first time in centuries. Something has happened. It was a weird thought for Miyari to have. It was then the realization that she was physically starting to wake up kicked in. How long has it been? The reality was, she didn’t care how long it had been. Mentally clearing her mind, she quietly reached out, listening within the ship as she did. There were people aboard the ship, unrecognizable save for one. A Dinarian. Primitives. What are they doing? Why are they on my ship?

She watched from her perch, her prison. Standard boarding procedure, fanning out as they went from corridor to corridor, clearing each area. Some things never change, at least. It was a thought that amused her, a mental head shake offered despite being physically unable to move within the chamber she was locked into. The neuro-net was at least still working, allowing her control of the ship and sensors. They followed similar tactics that she had taught, she had used. Curious, the Dinarian stayed back, near the one that the others were almost deferential to. Their commanding officer, more than likely. Though the ones scanning the rooms answered to the larger one. It was a few moments before three of them removed their helmets. Interesting. The Dinarian isn’t the commanding officer.

While alien to her, the race wasn’t all that different from her own. She used the cameras to zoom in on the commander, quietly regarding him, studying him. Tall, muscular but not too so, unlike the darker skinned one. She could sense the anxiety, watch it in his actions, the tension in his movements. The larger one with him, dark skinned and tattooed was even more tense. He’s protective of his commander and the Dinarian. That would make the Dinarian likely a healer, or perhaps a scientist?

She considered her next move, curiosity getting the better of her as she regarded the strange party that was exploring her ship. A mental glance told her that their ship was the only one in the system for the moment, it was a hope that it would last as she poured over the past month of data. Curious little things, aren’t they? she mused to herself. It was that moment that she realized what was registering on the longer range sensors. No wonder he is anxious. It was also at that moment that the ones she watched presented her the moment she had been waiting for, separating enough to make her game a bit more interesting. 

With a thought, several bulkheads sealed off, separating the four younger men from the core three “leaders”. Had she hoped for the four to panic, she had been disappointed in some ways. At least he has them trained well, she quietly admitted, a small degree of respect in that thought. She at least knew it was in vain, those four trying to get to the other three. They did not have the equipment to destroy the walls, not with them at least. Slowly, she would lead them through a mouse maze and back to their ship, but not the others. Them, she would test. Lead them to her, in the heart of the ship. Let us see now what you will do, Commander. Let us see what your people are capable of.

*****************************************************************************************

As the doors slammed down in the bulkhead cutting the four marines off from the command team, Christopher cursed under his breath. A momentary check via the radios quickly confirmed that they were ok, though separated with little chance of getting through the now locked door that separated both groups. He glanced towards Torres, regarding the larger man for a moment. “Torres, take lead. I want Naerra between both of us so we can cover her,” he began, glancing at the only open hatchway.

“Why does this entire situation not make me feel much confidence in the decision of allowing either of you coming here?” Torres asked, raising his rifle as he took a step into the hatch to scan the area. “Clear.”

Naerra smiled, drawing the pistol from her hip as she followed Torres. “I would under normal circumstances agree with you, Torres, but not this time,” she answered quietly as she stepped through the hatch. “When I was schooled, my hobby was studying the history of the Zxyiri Empire. Not a common subject investigated amongst even my people. You want me where I am right now.”

“I was going to say that usually when things don’t go the way either of us plan them, they tend to work all the better,” teased Christopher, at least appreciating Naerra’s attempt to battlefield joke with the two of them. He followed the two of them, rifle scanning the area behind them as he did. “I will settle for Naerra’s explanation since I am the first to admit I have very little knowledge of the race, much less the current ship we find ourselves on.”

Torres leaned against a wall, watching the hallway opposite him as the area came to a t-junction. “Neither of you are instilling confidence in me at the moment,” he retorted, satisfied the one side had no hidden surprises ready to hurt any of them. Quickly, he turned the corner, regarding the hallway with his rifle ready. “Clear.”

“Is that the job we are supposed to offer?” Naerra asked, moving forward to hug the wall as she looked at Torres. “I thought my general mission parameters was to listen and provide a way for people to deal with things that they feel are amiss.”

Christopher chuckled, moving to cover the opposite hallway, back to Torres. “My job is to take every crap job that Command sends us, trying my hardest to keep the entire crew from understanding how much they have irritated the crap out of me while figuring out how to keep all of you alive despite bureaucratic stupidity,” he admitted, eyes scanning the dim hallway. “Clear this way as well.”

“You both suck,” retorted Torres with some of his normal humor touching his voice, glancing at Naerra. “And you have been around this crew for far too long. You are starting to act like them. But, as you are our expert, which way?”

Naerra smiled, motioning towards the way Torres faced. “My basic understanding of what I’ve studied in the past would suggest that way,” she answered, regarding the marine. “I will take that as a compliment. It took me a long time to understand the general humor you and the Captain had.”

“You are getting better at it,” Christopher admitted, keeping watch as the Torres and Naerra started to move down the corridor. The next words he had as he turned were cut short as a shimmering light flickered across the corridor, placing a barrier between the three. “Damn it!”

Torres reacted fairly quickly, grabbing Naerra around the waist to put her behind him near one of the walls. “You ok, Captain?” he asked, reaching out tentatively to touch the field. Watching the flickers of light spark across, he withdrew his hand, regarding Christopher. “Some sort of force field.”

“How did it activate?” Naerra asked, regarding both men, clearly rattled. “The scans showed that all the systems were mostly deactivated…”

Christopher nodded, looking at the two. “We can now assume that they weren’t. Continue forward, stay together,” he answered, looking at Torres. “We’ll meet up further within the ship. Keep her safe, Torres.”

Torres nodded, shifting the rifle to look down the corridor. “Naerra, you stay behind me and don’t fall behind,” he said, his voice going deadly serious. “Christopher, you keep your ass alive. I neither want to face Federovna, nor have to do the paperwork to Command.”

Naerra nodded, glancing back at Christopher. “Be careful. Remember that this race was bred, trained and lived for war,” she warned, moving to follow Torres.

Christopher smiled, turning to regard the other corridor for a moment. “I’ll keep that in mind. Both of you be careful,” he answered, moving forward as the smile faded. He lifted the rifle up again, scanning as he moved along the left side. He wasn’t happy, there were too many variables at play.

**********************************************************************************

He actually cares about them. Miyari smiled at that thought. It was the sign of a good commander, something not taught but eventually learned among a very select few of her people. They wondered why people were willing to die for me. You can order your men to fire their weapons. You can order them into a battle. You can never order them to believe. Her crew believed, even when they should never have. She cared about them, took care of them, protected them. She allowed them to live, unlike other commanders in the fleet. They were her family. Taken one by one by the war. He understands that loss, it shows in his eyes. For a moment she almost regretted the “test” she was doing.

She watched as he continued down the corridor, unknowing that she’d forced the other two to join the original four back at the airlock, all access to the ship now cut off to them. A mental chuckle flickered through her mind at the reaction of the big one and especially the petite Dinarian. None of them left, a sign of a loyal crew, something she missed. It had taken her about twenty minutes to weave the two through the ship, up and down, frustrating them to no end as she kept them from their commander. Now the bigger male of the group was hitting the hatch with his weapon. She stifled a chuckle mentally at the futility of the action.

Miyari turned her attention back to the commander, contemplative as he made his way further towards the core of the ship, towards her prison. No, she thought. Even if the Dinari were a servant race of ours once, I will deal with an equal in rank. It was an odd thought for her, but then again, most of her life had been odd to that point. There was something in the way he moved, his actions, that fascinated her. Slowly, her thoughts strayed to another time. Another war.

***************************************************************************************

Christopher continued down the hallway, rifle scanning ahead of him. The entire action was half absurd to him given the abandoned nature of the ship thus far. The other half gave him some comfort in the knowledge that it was familiar. At least doing this, Torres would not have felt the need to kill him later if he got shot up. Truth be told, he felt he was in a horrible game of cat and mouse and he had no way of knowing which side he was on at the moment.

He found himself in a rather odd room, octagonal in shape. The walls were smooth, though not made of any metal he had ever seen. Once he felt the room was secure enough, he reached out to touch one of the walls, a small ripple effect cascading throughout the room. It continued, creating more ripples as it touches the other walls, much like throwing stones into a pool of water. A moment later, the room flashed, Christopher finding himself somewhere far different than the ship he was on.

The sound of waves touched across the rocky shore line, the sky an odd cerulean blue, the sun casting a pale white light in the sky. A tall man in black armor stood, looking out on the water, a large rifle leaning against his leg. At first, Christopher didn’t move, uncertain of what was going on. A moment later, a sound behind him startled him, the captain swinging around with his gun raised.

Dark green eyes regarded him from behind dark auburn strands of hair, a young woman dressed in black armor as well approaching. Armed with a smaller rifle, she walked through Christopher and up to the other, a hand reaching out to touch his shoulder. “Dalsir?” she asked, smiling as he rested his hand on her own. “The transport is ready to take us to the fleet…”

“You are having second thoughts on this?” he asked, deep blue eyes glancing over his shoulder to regard the woman. “We can back out, you realize? Both of us are retired, the war has never came close to here…”

She smiled. “Just promise you will never leave me behind, Dalsir,” she retorted, moving forward more to rest her head on his shoulder, the rifle still cradled. “We’ve faced many wars, I doubt this will be too different from many of the other suicide missions we have done. We are together, that is all that matters.”

“Indeed,” he responded, placing a kiss on her forehead. “I will never leave you behind, Miyari. Even if I did, you would hunt me to the ends of the universe just to find me… Though, if it was because I left you, it would be to kill me.” He smiled at that, turning to cup her face with both palms. “Just as I would do for you.”

The room flashed a bright white, the scene changing to a battlefield. Christopher blinked a few moments, letting his eyes adjust to the sudden change. Black rock dotted the hillside, the sound of gunfire echoing throughout the valley that he stood in. The man and the woman were tucked behind a rock with another male, all three armed with similar rifles. Moving towards their position, a unit of about ten Vrisai soldiers were laying down a line of continuous fire towards them. 

Miyari shifted the rifle, glancing briefly over her shoulder before ducking back down as gunfire goes over their heads. “You know, I can remember a time when we didn’t sit behind rocks and let the enemy come to us,” she grinned, adjusting a few buttons on her rifle.

“True, but I also remember how many times we got shot up when that was happening,” Dalsir retorted, humor in his voice as he lifted up to shoot a soldier in the head. 

“If the two of you are done trying to one up your supposed high scores against the enemy, the charges are ready,” said the third, shaking his head as he watched them.

Miyari grinned, looking at the two of them. “On three?” she asked, tensing to make a run for it. “One. Two. Three!”

All three ran, gunfire chasing them seconds before a large explosion resounding, the three ducking back behind another set of rocks.

The room flashed again, jarring Christopher as he turned to try and catch his bearings again, gun scanning each area in confusion. Before he could find his balance again, the sound of gunfire filled the room as the scenery changed. A battle worn cargo area, civilians being brought on board. The young woman, tired looking with the rifle, blood on her face as she scanned the rocky cliffs of the outlying area. Dead Vrisai soldiers littered the ground only a few yards away.

“Dalsir, we have another wave coming this way!” Miyari exclaimed into her microphone, picking up a young girl and placing her into a jump seat within the cargo bay. “Where is your location so we can rendezvous?”

The sound that came over was cold, calculated, but had a hint of a waiver. “Negative, Miyari. We are pinned down here and they have brought in heavy weapons. The ship cannot handle the firepower,” came the reply.

Whatever the woman’s thoughts, Christopher realized she was turning for the hatch that was already closing, locking her into the cargo bay. “Neve, get this damn thing open! I have to get out there!” she screamed at the tall alien near her. Christopher recognized the look on her face, her eyes. It was a terror he had felt once or twice when a mission went poorly and he knew he was going to lose people. Only this time, it looked even more visceral on her face.

Rather than answering her, the alien Neve grabbed her around the waist and pulled her towards some straps, locking the two of them in as the ship started to blast off. Despite knowing intuitively that this was some sort of hologram, the rumbling sensation was real enough to cause Christopher to hit the deck pretty hard. Glancing up, he regarded the two as Miyari struggled. “Commander, we have our orders. Dalsir ordered us to get out of here, to make sure nothing happened to you. The other ships won’t pull out until you give the order.”

The look of understanding crossed the woman’s face, a dark sadness in her eyes as she took a deep breath. “First fleet, pull out! I repeat, pull out!” she yelled over her comm, leaning her forehead into the tall, bug like alien holding her steady. “Dalsir….”

“I know,” came the male reply, voice wavering. The staccato of gunfire rang over the comm system as he spoke. “I want you to hold onto two things, Miyari. I love you, I always will. I will find you again. Until then, live.”

Another deep breath, Miyari didn’t look up though Christopher could see tears falling towards the deck. “I love you, too,” she whispered, her body tensing as the sound of an explosion then dead air echoed into the cargo bay. She stood up, looking at the one she called Neve, nodding a moment before moving towards a set of doors at the end of the bay. Her voice was cold as she spoke again. “Second fleet, this is Commander Miyari. Destroy everything on the planet. Leave nothing alive.”

Christopher followed Neve’s gaze towards a porthole, watching as asteroids were rained down onto the planet below, followed by bright and large explosions. Nuclear weapons, he thought to himself, a newfound respect for the dead alien race for their usage of asteroids to hide the bombs. He glanced back towards the woman, no one standing there as the room went back to the original octagon walls that had been there when the strange holographic situation started.

For a moment, Christopher just stood there in silence before starting as his comm unit came to life. “Captain? Damn it, Christopher, answer,” Torres’s voice came over the unit, anger and worry tinging the Samoan’s usual tones.

“I’m here, Torres,” Christopher answered, taking a knee for a moment to catch his bearings. “Not sure what the hell just happen though. Some sort of holographic projection but damn if it didn’t feel real.”

Naerra’s calm voice came through next, almost reassuring in its tone. “The Zxyiri had advanced technology we are still learning about,” she answered, voice quiet. “Some installations we have found over the years had neural interfaces. It is possible you activated one of these on accident.”

“Remind me to tell you later what I saw,” came Christopher’s response, standing up again as he regarded the room again. The door he had came in disappeared at some point but another had opened. “This ship is a sadistic bastard.”

Torres’s chuckle came at that comment. “True. Just trying not to anger it too much.”

“Another door has opened, I am going to continue trying to find my way back to the group of you,” responded Christopher, lifting the rifle to scan the doorway as he approached it. “I’ll call you back shortly.”

With the comm unit shut down again, Christopher walked towards the open doorway, still trying to process what he had just seen.

************************************************************************************

Miyari floated there in her prison, trying to return from the shock of the memories, the strange alien forgotten for a moment. She hadn’t tried to remember that, much less allow it to be shared, her world in shock for a long moment as she regarded her surroundings to find her balance again. Must not think too hard on things, she chided herself mentally, returning her attention to Christopher as he slowly approached the heart of the ship where her cryo-tube was. 

She could tell he was shaken, though not as much as she seemed to be. It was then she also realized more of her systems were coming online, the thawing process starting without her necessarily wanting it. Damn it, Neve! she mentally screamed, knowing full well that her old friend was long dead. You would put an auto system so this wouldn’t get screwed up… And I wouldn’t have second thoughts.

************************************************************************************

After another ten minutes of walking, Christopher found himself stepping through the hatch and into a smaller room. A lot of lights blinked on the wall, a long cylinder of glass and liquid resting in the middle of the space. Trunks, ornate in nature, were pushed against the wall nearby. Hanging on the wall, the black armor he had seen in the holographic project, weapons of varying sort hanging near it.

Slowly, he approached the glass cylinder, lifting a hand to push the condensation away. He almost started away, blinking as he recognized the face sleeping there. She didn’t look that much different from a human, though her features were more aquiline with ears that came to a curved point. Her dark hair hung in ringlets, floating in the liquid she was suspended in.

Reaching to turn his comm unit on, Christopher took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Naerra, what do you know of a Zxyiri woman named Miyari?” he asked, his eyes still regarding the woman and the container she was within.

“How do you … Nevermind,” answered Naerra, surprise registering in her voice for a moment. “She was considered one of their greatest combat tacticians. She disappeared during the end of their war, though there was no accounting in any record I have found as to why. Records indicated her crew was loyal to her to the point they would kill without thought if she ordered it, and die as well.”

Christopher half-smiled at the shocked tone he had elicited from Naerra, taking a step back to watch the tank. “I think I have found her,” he answered, glancing at the growing condensation. “Standby on that.” With a touch, he turned the comm unit off again, watching as liquid started to pour out and onto the floor.

Whatever his thoughts next, they were gone as the glass chamber cracked open, dropping more of the liquid to the floor along with the woman inside. Curled where she fell, her body shuddered as she coughed the liquid out of her lungs, gasping as her eyes opened to regard the room. The hurt and anger were still in the green eyes that looked up from behind the soaked strands that clung to her face, her body tensing as she lay gasping for the air that filled her lungs.

Slowly, Christopher set his rifle aside, holding his hands upwards as he knelt near the strange woman. “I am not here to hurt you,” he began, keeping his voice in even tones. “My name is Christopher Stryker. I am the captain of the UAS Cairo.” He continued to watch her, waiting to see if she can understand him.

The dark green eyes he had seen from the hologram so vividly watched his movements from the damp strands of hair that clung to her face. Tension set in muscles as she took stock of her surroundings , the reality far more vivid than the images she received through the sensors. “I understand,” she answers, voice low and unsteady. She slowly tucked a knee under her, eyes staying on the human captain. “How many others survived? How long have I been asleep?”

“You are the first that I know of,” he answers slowly. Christopher keeps his voice low and steady as he continues. “As for how long, I cannot give anything specifically. The empire, the one you knew, has been gone for about a thousand years. The Vrisai have started trying to take the star systems of the alliance members currently.”

She considered his words, darkness clouding the emerald green as her features hardened at the mention of the Vrisai. “It would seem that we have an enemy in common, Captain,” Miyari responded, an edge to her voice now. Perhaps … Bitterness? “What brought you and your companions to my ship? You aren’t the first to attempt to board, admittedly, but you didn’t allow the systems to stop you from trying to get here. Why.?”

Christopher considered her words, the fluctuation tones. A feeling of trying to navigate a landmine made him wish Naerra was there. “Truthfully? My superiors were hoping for technology, intel, anything that could help give us an edge in this war we are in. They didn’t believe the Dinari when they said that scans showed anyone alive,” he replies, not bothering to lie. “The Dinari say you were one of the best at tactics, especially against the Vrisai. We could use that knowledge.”

Miyari tilted her head, regarding Christopher as she leaned back against the cryo-pod. “If I were to help, to … join your crew, I would be allowed to fight? To kill the Vrisai?” she asked him, eyes never leaving his. “I would not be a prisoner or given to some scientist?”

“If you help us, I will make certain you do,” he answers, offering his hand to her. “I will see to it that Command has you stay aboard the Cairo, and I’ll see to it that you are cleared to fight with us. We cannot stay in this system for long, though. There’s already been enemy scout ships that have been spotted here.”

Slowly, she takes his hand, pulling herself upright. “Of course there are,” Miyari muses, glancing around for a moment before moving to put her armor on. Weapons soon followed, holstered into varying points on the armor. “If they had been smart, they would have blown up this ship long ago. Instead, they watch it. A foolish thing on their part, but tactical expertise and logic have never been their strong point.”

Christopher watched as she moved, a practiced elegance and almost ritual to how she put the armor on and placed her weapons. “Overwhelming force, divide and conquer seems to be their forte in the battles that we’ve had with them,” he answers, holstering his rifle. “If there is anything you would like to take, now would be the time to gather it. I doubt we will get a chance to come back here…”

Smiling, she reaches for a bag, slinging it onto her shoulder. “Soldiers rarely keep anything more sentimental than their memories, Christopher Stryker,” she answers, softly chuckling as she turns towards him. She lifts a hand, motioning towards the hatch. “You may call me Miyari Dinai. I doubt my rank and title mean anything in this age.”

He pauses, tilting his head to regard her for a moment. “How did you know you could trust me? I could have been sent here to kill you, take you hostage, any number of things…”

A soft laugh touches the room as Miyari opens the hatch, the other side revealing his confused crew members. “You saw my … memories. I saw you,” she answers simply, stepping through to regard the others as Christopher considers that for a moment. “Observation is a useful key to understanding a person, their motives. Action alone rarely answers every question one has, but it will often give you insight.” She turns, regarding him again, ignoring the confusion of the others for the moment. “Your first thought at the first separation was to protect the noncombatant in your squad, you and the one you called Torres kept the one you called Naerra between the two of you. You both seemed rather… put upon when you were separated from them. I’m fairly certain had he been able to get to this hatch, he’d have tried to tear it open with his bare hands. Your squad is loyal, never left, even when they could not get to you. While that speaks well of them, it also speaks well of you, Captain.”

Christopher glanced at the others before slowly returning his gaze to Miyari. An angry comment had already died on Torres’s lips as he regarded the small, well armed woman who had stepped through the hatch. It was Naerra who ended up speaking in the end. “As enlightening as this is, perhaps it is a conversation best held on the Cairo. We do not know when the Vrisai will be showing…” she offers, the gentle timbre of her voice lilting slightly with some urgency.

Clearing his throat, Christopher nods, motioning for Torres. “Lieutenant Commander Manuel Torres, Councilor Naerra Kuruntham, this is Miyari Dinai of the Zxyiri. She is a guest for now,” he says, moving to escort Miyari through the group towards the hatch leading to Cairo. “Miyari, for the time being until I can speak with Command, I would appreciate you securing your weapons with Torres. He is in charge of the armory. As well, Doctor Federovna will want to see you so at the very least, she has a baseline scan for your health should there be issues in the future. We will get you a private bunk as well.” He pauses a moment, considering his next words. “What would you like to see happen to this ship?”

Smiling again, Miyari tilts her head to consider the question. “Blow it up. I will not be coming back here, there is nothing that will further aid your cause, and it’s insulting to think that the Vrisai would get their hands on it.” She glances up at Torres, considering the larger man who has suddenly become her shadow with a raised eyebrow. “You have a question.”

Torres clears his throat, taking a moment before answering. “Many. But for the moment, how big is this ship, exactly? “

Miyar laughs, lifting a hand as several bulkheads shift to a straight path. “It’s not,” she answers simply, heading into the airlock. “But, you were led to believe it was much larger than it ever could be.”

Torres blinks, glancing back to Christopher. “You are alright?” he asks, hand slowly coming off his holstered pistol finally as he follows the others into the airlock. “Nothing was done to you?”

Christopher shakes his head, stepping in as well after Naerra. “I’m a little rattled but yeah, nothing was done to me.”

Chuckling as all their eyes train towards her, Miyari takes a deep breath, crossing her arms. “If I had wanted you dead, you would be,” she comments, amused. “It’s been a long time since I have had amusement in my life. This should prove interesting.”


End file.
